Suffer the Ache, Sweet Babies

When earth finally moves again
and soil gives up after soaking rain,
we watch seeds pods crack open,
spindly white stems humbly folded,
their heads still buried in dirt.

I marvel at miracles,
little babes surrounding me
like folds of skirts, hugging my legs
and screaming all sorts of nonsense
because they are tired and hungry.

I watch them now, their heads bent low,
their stems spindly and white, and I
wonder how much rain it will take to soften
their earth, if they will keep their heads buried
or suffer the ache of reaching upward.